


Machine Assist

by battle_cat



Series: Together [40]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Machine-Assisted Orgasm, Max on top, Most of the time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:04:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trick had been finding the right engine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machine Assist

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic now available [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7211723)!

The trick had been finding the right engine.

They’d talked about it before, sly whispers curled together in the night. The problem is that they are both too diligent to fill the repair bay with idling fumes, and she isn’t sure she would feel safe enough to do it out in the open desert, even in sight of the Citadel, even with him.

When he comes back from a scout and she leads him not up to her room but down, down, down, through twisting dark burrows deep under the Citadel, he tilts his head and she gives him a wisp of a smile and that is all the question he asks.

She leads him to a door that needs a key, which she has. Inside the air is cool and slightly damp and filled with the low throaty whirr of the generators that pump water to the heights of the Citadel and power its meager electric grid.

The turbines churn and purr in the dimly lit room, and they vibrate as they spin.

She runs her flesh hand over one of the heavy deep-voiced beasts, tall as a rig, shoots Max a glance and says, “I think this will do.”

He puts his own hand against the turbine, raising his eyebrows at the deep, powerful vibrations. This isn’t a bike or even a V8; it’s the thrumming core of the Citadel itself. A twitch of a smile on his lips.

Then he has her against the machine, quick enough to make her gasp, the length of his body pressed up against hers, and she can feel the vibrations shuddering through her, but not yet in the right spot. 

One of his hands is on her shoulder, not at her throat but close enough to make her shiver, and the other runs down to palm her ass, fingers digging against the seam of her pants. She draws in a sharp breath.

“You found a very big engine to do this with,” he murmurs against the back of her neck.

She lets him move her, around to a blunt corner of the metal box that she can press against her pubic bone, and it’s almost what she wants but—“Not quite,” she breathes, and then his hand curls under her knee and hooks her leg up and— _OH_.

He must know from the sound she makes that he has her in the right position; he makes a satisfied _hmmph_ and pins her there with his hips, and she moans as the vibrations stoke up delicious quick-building heat inside her.

“Mm. There.”

“Unghyes—” she gets out, and then he grinds his hips against her, a moment of being crushed almost too hard against the metal. It drags a ragged sound out of her and he laughs and she knows he’s going to be doing that again.

He starts rolling his hips, slow, sending her on a dizzying ride through not-quite-enough and almost-too-much, his hands firm on her ass and her knee, heat and sparks revving up and up and up inside her. She can feel him getting rapidly, desperately hard against her ass, the huff of his rough hot breath against her neck—and then the pulse of the vibrations into and around and through her eclipses everything else.

It’s a glorious orgasm, wave after wave shaking her whole body, too intense to even cry out; she just whimpers and scrambles for purchase with both hands on the machine, metal scraping against metal as he holds her in place.

She can feel her hips trying to arch away as she comes down, dizzy with overstimulation even though she doesn’t want it to end.

“Enough?” he pants, and she shakes her head _no_ even as her body squirms away, relying on him not to hesitate to grind her back into the metal.

“More,” she gasps when she can breathe properly again, and he makes a noise that’s half laugh and half hum, like he knew she was going to say that.

He builds her back up again, and it takes longer this time, and when she comes again they’re both sweating and breathing hard, and she feels weak and shivery and raw, as if the hard vibrations have shaken something loose at the core of her.

This time it is too much, and she tells him so with a pat on the back of his neck, and she’s glad he can read her signals because she is lightheaded and gasping for breath.

He eases her away from the machine, and she’s grateful for his arms around her because her legs feel like water.

She needs a moment to bury her face against his neck and put herself back together, leaning her weight against him while his hand strokes a slow soothing arc over her back. When her legs are still shaking five breaths later he eases them down on the stone floor, lying side by side, and when she shivers he drapes his jacket over her.

 

The stone floor is hard and a bit too chilly for comfort, but he’s lain on plenty of stone and she is warm and soft beside him. He strokes her hair as she lies with her head pillowed on his arm, and there are almost enough other sensations to distract him from his raging erection. 

Almost.

After a minute she scoots closer to him, and when her eyes meet his there’s warmth and a little mischief in them.

“You got very hard holding me against that thing,” she says, as if she read his mind. “I could feel it.”

She hooks a leg over his and runs her thumb up the line of the bulge in his pants, a hot flare of sensation. He sucks in breath.

She nudges him onto his back, and then she’s unbuckling his pants, reaching in to curl her flesh hand around his cock and swipe a thumb over the head, where he’s already leaking.

She makes short work of her own pants, pulling them down to her ankles so she can open her legs wide, and then she tugs his down enough for him to feel the cold floor against his bare ass.

She climbs on top of him, pressing his erection down against his stomach, and _God_ , she is burning hot against him in the cool room, slick and wet, sliding against him with the juice of two orgasms but not letting him in. He can’t stop himself from arching up and she leans forward, enough to dig metal and flesh hands into his shoulders.

“I think you like it,” she purrs, a ghost of a smile on her face. “Being on top. You think you shouldn’t, but you do.”

Her back arches and her hips rock, smearing wetness up and down his length, and he hears the desperate noise he makes in the back of his throat. She’s a breath away from making him come right there, and the arch smile on her face says she’s perfectly aware of it.

“You like it, when I fight a little and you get to hold me down?”

Unf, he shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ , not with anyone and certainly not with her. Playing like that had started because she liked it, and she was always the one who initiated and usually the one who pushed them further…but…

But he _does_ , and he feels a guilty squirm at how often those are the nights he thinks of, when he’s out in the wastes without her. Because there is not a thing about her that feels weaker than him, even when he is holding her down, and she has a way of looking at the rough, wild parts of him without revulsion or fear, trusting that he can control them, and together those things somehow make him feel safe.

She grinds her hips down in some kind of slippery figure-eight that almost sends him over the edge. “Asked you a question,” she says, low and deadly, and…the irony of the situation is not lost on him.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, because there’s no hope for him if this is an endurance game. “Yes. I like it.”

Her smile widens. “Then get on top and fuck me.”

He laughs, and she laughs a little too, so she’s just a little off guard when his arm swoops up and pulls her against him. He flips them, his growl perhaps a bit undercut by the hand that slides to the back of her skull to keep her head from smacking against the stone.

They still land hard enough that she needs a split second to catch her breath, and he uses it to push her legs up and back and duck under, so her tangled pants are doing the work of keeping them around his waist, and when he slides all the way into her without preamble she makes a delighted sound.

The stone floor is brutal on his knee, but she is hot and slick and desperately eager underneath him and he’s not going to last long anyway. “Harder,” she commands once, then twice, until he worries that he’s going to scrape her raw on the floor, but she just hooks her flesh hand around his ass and moans with pleasure.

 

She’s digging her fingers against his ass to keep him close against her while he fucks her as hard as he can, sending deep shocks of something between pleasure and pain through her. She doesn’t even care if she comes again; it’s rough and raw and she wants to lean into the sensation the way you press on a bruise, just to see what it feels like.

She feels him jump when she curls the metal hand around his ass too, and she likes that, and she squeezes a little, and she thinks it’s the press of the metal fingers so close to his delicate bits that sends him over the edge, pulsing and twitching hot inside her.

Afterward it’s his turn to curl silently against her, trembling and raw, and she tries to do what he does for her, holding him close and carding her fingers through his hair. She is not as good at it as he is, but she tries.

 

At some point they help each other to their feet. He groans when he picks up his jacket from the floor, and she can already feel where scrapes and bruises will form. They’ll both be sore tomorrow.

He pulls back the neck of his shirt to study the red mark on his shoulder the shape of her metal hand. Cocks his head at her.

“Left one on your ass, too.” She smacks it. 

He pulls her against him. For a split second she is ready for retaliation, but he just uses her for support as they begin the long, long walk up through the Citadel back to her room.

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly churning through my list of Max/Furiosa PWP ideas. Had the idea for the first part of this FOREVER but couldn't figure out where it fit into the grander scheme of things.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Machine Assist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7211723) by [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel)




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